What're You Afraid Of?
by linzhatterxx
Summary: Sweeney and Nellie discuss their fears. Slight Sweenett. Its my first Sweeney story, so be nice please. :


What're You Afraid Of?

A Sweenett One-Shot

Mr Todd and Mrs Lovett sat across from one another, each staring into their glasses of gin. Sweeney's was still almost full, though they had been sitting there for a few hours, at least, while Mrs Lovett had downed what Sweeney assumed was probably her third tumbler. She sat and rambled on about how Mrs Mooney had stopped by earlier to ask what exactly she was putting in the pies that was better than cat meat, and how that had earned a few disgusted stares from Mrs Lovett's customers. And, as it always seemed to go when Nellie had been drinking, she stopped mid sentence and blurted out something completely random. "Wot're you 'fraid of, Mistah T?"

Mr Todd glanced up at her from his glass, refusing to acknowledge how lovely she looked in the moonlight, ethereal almost. He shifted a little in his seat, unsure of how to answer her. He settled on the simplest answer. "Ghosts." The ghosts of his past, specifically. But, true to form, he said no more than just that one word. Mrs Lovett did enough talking for the both of them, anyway.

"Oh Lord, I'd imagine you bein' 'fraid o' ghosts, wot with ya past 'n all that." She nodded, pouring another glass for herself. "Meself, I don't know nothin' 'bout ghosts, but I'm plenty scared o' otha' things. Like spiders, feh example. Can't stand the ghastly things." She shuddered a little, and once again, Mr Todd made himself look away from her. He loved Lucy, not Mrs Eleanor Lovett. He couldn't love her, let alone be attracted to her. He wasn't stupid, no, he was well aware of her feelings for him. And he made sure that she knew how he felt about her, or at least, he _tried_ to.

"...And heights, I'm bloody _terrified_ of heights. Fell offa' deck at me uncle's sea cabin when I was 'bout five yea's old, neva' could go much past three stories since...."

Sweeney was hardly listening, concentrating too much on Mrs Lovett's question. His answer still bothered him; he wasn't afraid of just ghosts, no; as Benjamin Barker, he had been afraid of so many things. Bees, for example; horses, thunder, the ocean, boats, falling down a flight of stairs and breaking his neck, death, losing Lucy....

He had, of course, conquered a few of those fears in years past. He was no longer afraid of death in any form, having died the day he landed in Botany Bay. Obviously, he couldn't fear losing Lucy, as she was already lost. Thunder didn't bother him anymore, nor did the ocean or boats. He was still terrified of horses, though, and bees. Bees were the spawn of Satan, as far as he was concerned.

"...Can't stand bees, either. Eva' had one'a them bugga's fly up yeh skirts? Well, s'pose you wouldn't know how that goes, I don' think you've eva' worn a skirt... but my point is--"

"Bees?" Sweeney finally looked up at her. She visably lit up and poured another glass.

"Yeah, bees. Hate them things, I do."

"I was stung when I was very young." He averted his eyes away from her again, ignoring the way his heart sped up and almost felt alive again when her eyes sparkled. "Playing outside wif' my brothers... one o' them knocked a nest over, and I was attacked by them. I very nearly died."

Nellie, for once, kept silent. It wasn't often that Mistah T said more than three words to her, even more rare was a moment when he told her something about his past, before that silly nit Lucy came along, before all this bloody revenge business.

"Oh," was all she said after a moment or two. "So you're afraid o' bees, too then? Bees and ghosts?"

He threw back his gin and gritted his teeth. He found that he was angry with himself, for revealing so much. Why did he tell her that? Why was he still sitting here with her? He should've been in his shop, plotting his revenge. But he couldn't make himself move.

"Bees, ghosts," he watched her hands as she poured him another glass, "horses."

"'Notha near death experience?" She stood and grabbed another bottle from her hidden stash, the one she hid behind the ale so that Toby wouldn't go for it.

He shook his head slightly, "Neva' liked em. My aunt had a horse farm a long time ago, they didn't like me, I didn't like them."

"Fair enough," Nellie sighed as she sat back down. She rested her chin in her hand and stared at Sweeney for a bit before barely whispering, "You know wot I'm really afraid of?"

He regarded her blankly over his own glass. "Wha'?"

"Dying alone." She looked down at her glass and ran her finger around the rim, "Eva' since Albert died, I've been so scared that I wouldn't have anyone to mourn me. Albert 'ad such a lovely family, they're all real close. But me... I 'aven't seen me family since I left the house. Neva' heard from 'em once."

For some strange reason, Sweeney felt the urge to comfort her. When she looked up at him, her big, doe-like eyes swimming in tears that she wouldn't cry, he gently reached out and clasped her hand in his. "You're not alone, Nellie," he whispered, "When you die, I'll die too."

She nodded and wiped her eyes with her free hand. "O' course. We'll more than likely die together." She thought he meant if/when they got caught in their evil little business.

Little did she know, he meant it another way entirely.

End.

A/N;; There! My first Sweeney fic. Be nice please. :]


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